


Send in The Clowns

by LM4Y



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:17:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LM4Y/pseuds/LM4Y
Summary: “What are you going to do now?”“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”“Bullshit. What are you going to do now that Eddie isn’t dead?”Richie hummed. He looked down at his wasted cigarette and flicked it. “Ask me again tomorrow and I’ll let you know.”





	Send in The Clowns

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the middle of another fic (my first fic, actually!!), but I recently rediscovered my love for the song, Send In the Clowns, as I watched the new trailer for Joker. I thought about the story behind this song and, in a particularly sad moment, thought about the relevance it had to Richie and Eddie's relationship. I have every intention of exploring several beautiful songs throughout this story, but seeing that I didn't even make it to Send In the Clowns in my first chapter, it might take some time. Thanks for reading!

The drive back to the Inn was silent. Richie was tempted to use the term ‘dead-silent’, but for once, his mouth remained closed. Indulging in his own discomfort, Richie turned to look out the window and thought about everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. A sob escaped Beverly’s lips and Ben gently placed his hand on her knee. 

Richie watched as Ben’s thumb lightly drew up and down the outside of her thigh. 

“I just can’t believe-” She stopped, unable to finish her thought as the tears in her eyes threatened to spill. She swallowed them back. Mike leaned forward from behind the front passenger’s seat to clasp her arm. He whispered into her ear, aiming for a sense of intimacy that felt all but lost to everybody in the car. Destroying a being of pure evil does that to people. 

Eddie felt Richie shudder next to him. He snuck a glance towards his friend, in an attempt to gauge what the hell was happening. Had any of this been real? (Was it finally over?). But Richie’s entire being seemed to be focused on the scenery passing the vehicle by. Still, Eddie could feel Richie’s elbow nestled into his ribs. It conjured an image of a magnet, as if every negative charge was drawing his best friend’s focus outward while every positive charge pulled him towards Eddie’s side. Eddie leaned into him, chasing his warmth. 

It wasn’t enough for Eddie. Taking a page from Richie’s book and without thinking too much about it, Eddie snaked his arm underneath Richie’s. His hand found the taller man’s and grasped his fingers between his own. Richie instantly relaxed, quickly stiffened, and relaxed again. He turned towards Eddie and allowed a lopsided grin to grace his features. Richie leaned down and hummed, “I’m glad you’re here, Eds.” 

“Still not my name, Richie.” 

But Eddie’s subtext communicated something entirely different. 

Ben eventually pulled up beside the Inn. He shut off the car, but no one made any move to leave.   
“Well, I think I’m going to have a drink”, Mike sighed. He shared a soft, albeit exhausted, smile with Eddie and Richie before unbuckling and pulling his door handle. Richie glanced down at his and Eddie’s intertwined hands.   
“Could I, um,” Richie tensed, “Could I hold onto this for a bit?”   
Eddie frowned for a moment before realization struck.   
His hand.   
OH.

Eddie chuckled and squeezed Richie’s hand. The two men shuffled out of the car, trailing behind the rest of their friends as they made their way up the steps. Beverly looked back, eyeing Eddie’s and Richie’s hands before capturing Richie’s eyes. She smirked before turning forward.   
Richie felt his cheeks burn. Mike opened the front door and beelined it to the hotel bar. As the crew made their way across the entryway, Richie decided that no one actually worked here. Where the hell were the employees? Seeing no one around, Mike unapologetically walked behind the bar and pulled up several bottles of hard liquor. Eddie’s hand squeezed Richie’s.   
“How are you doing, Bevy?” Mike smiled.   
Beverly’s lips turned up and her eyes brightened. She looked from Mike to Ben, who stood beside her, and breathed. “Great; alive; surrounded by a bunch of losers.”   
Mike snorted. A moment of silence passed and the entire group began to laugh. They kept laughing. Gradually, all the tension seeped out of the room. 

Everything was going to be okay; Richie just knew it. 

Maybe… Maybe even more than okay, he dared to think, looking down at Eddie’s hand in his. 

Mike poured six shots and Bill was heard opening the front door. “A toast.” Mike declared, holding up his glass. The others grabbed their drinks. “To coming home,” he said and looked into his friends’ faces.   
“To fighting back,” Ben smiled.  
“To fuh-f-friends.”  
“Love,” Beverly mumurmered, moving her eyes from Ben’s to capture Richie’s with that annoyingly knowing look.   
“To our conquering fears,” Eddie whispered.  
“To killing that fucking clown.”   
Everyone raised their glass before tilting their heads back. 

Hours later, The Losers found themselves strewn across the Inn’s floor at varying levels of sober. Conversation flowed smoothly and laughter littered the air. Beverly attempted to stand, using Ben to support herself. Richie raised an eyebrow as Beverly’s hand lingered on Ben’s shoulder. He looked up at his dear friend, catching her eye. She blushed, but maintained eye contact.  
“‘M gonna grab a smoke. I’ll be back shortly.”   
Ah, Richie thought, an invitation. He sighed, “I’ll join you.”

Beverly smiled down at Ben before turning for the door. The two of them pooled out onto the porch. Beverly passed a cigarette to Richie as she leaned onto the bordering gate. The sound of a lighter, followed by two deep inhales, broke the silence of the night that surrounded them.   
“So,” Richie exhaled, his lips quirking, “You and Ben, huh?”   
“Beep beep, Richie,” Bev smiled as she took another drag. A comfortable silence fell between the friends before Beverly spoke again.  
“I quit smoking when I got engaged.”   
Richie turned to her.   
“Yeah, I had this idea of what I wanted my marriage to be; I saw it as a fresh start, as an end to my shitty childhood. I felt like I could stop reaching for Camels and lean on my husband instead, you know?”  
Beverly continued. “But the dreams never stopped. Despite the body, the life, that held me at night.” Beverly huffed, “At least the cigarettes took the edge off.”   
Richie focused on his breathing.  
“It was the deadlights-” Bev turned to Richie. She studied his face, “But you know that.”  
Richie swallowed, unable to break eye contact with her. He felt his throat closing.  
“You saw him die, too.”  
Now it was Richie’s turn to sob. Beverly wrapped her arms around Richie’s tall form, tears snaking down her own cheeks. Richie managed an inhale so deep that it tore something inside of him. His tears flowed freely. The tension in his throat released. 

Two friends held each other in the dark as their cigarettes threatened to burn their fingers.

“He’s not dead, though.” Beverly looked up.   
“Yeah,” Richie snorted, wiping his nose, “He’s a stubborn fucker, our Eds.”  
“So is the man who’s been pining for him for well over 27 years.”  
“WOAH.” Richie’s eyebrows shot up as he pulled away from Bev, “That’s pretty bold coming from you! Remind me again, what’s Ben’s room number?”  
Beverly threw her head back and laughed, “Ask me again tomorrow and I’ll let you know.”  
“There’s my girl!” Richie grinned, throwing his arm around her shoulders, “Did you just pull me out here to make the man jealous? He’s gotta be wondering why you’re taking so long and everyone knows I can last quite a while-”   
“That’s only in reference to your mouth-”  
“-Exactly my point, Bevy.” Richie hummed.   
“As in you never shut up, Trashmouth.”  
The two of them giggled, not unlike children, before Beverly looked up at Richie.   
“What are you going to do now?”  
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”  
“Bullshit. What are you going to do now that Eddie isn’t dead?”  
Richie hummed. He looked down at his wasted cigarette and flicked it. “Ask me again tomorrow and I’ll let you know.”


End file.
